Cream Puffs
by niftytothemax
Summary: This is my first fanfiction ever and I'm not even sure if I'm doing any of this right so basically I'm sorry, please be merciful. Fluffy Rosemary involving a baker!Kanaya and a Rose who spots her from afar and rushes inside to meet her. c: Only the prologue so far!


Rose Lalonde, 20 years old and a reluctant college student, was not conspicuous- a careful charade, if still under construction. She didn't attract the attention of strangers or leave an impression on passersby. Those who even glanced her way dismissed her as easily as translucent water vapor left on a mirror. Instead, she observed _them_. This park saw quite a cast of characters, and Rose counted herself lucky to watch their performance, all from behind the refuge of a particularly descriptive romance novel. Meandering couples with wandering eyes and hands, bright-eyed youths full to the brim with latent potential, disillusioned realists who'd forgotten that feeling- all of these populated the park on this gradually fading August evening. The intimations of a sardonic smile tugged on a corner of her lips, but she resisted tenaciously and gave nothing away.

Her ankles crossed daintily, she shifted as the diamond pattern on the bench below her left stubborn red marks on the backs of her thighs; _the price one pays for miniskirts_, she reasoned. Otherwise, she was completely content in the temperate outside air. She would have liked to stay for much longer, but after a few more placated minutes she reached the end of a lurid chapter and, with a quick glance up at the deepening pink of the impending sunset, decided to depart for home.

Rose had grown quite fond of the minimalist, one-bedroom apartment she shared with her tabby cat, although despite its often overly constricting smallness, it could never be considered cozy. She often yearned for pies on windowsills, dusty bookshelves, and a quaint two-story filled with unassuming antiques. The alluring charm of the suburbs would have to wait, however. She had a psychology degree to earn, possibly even with the added hindrance of medical school. It would have been easier, certainly, and less financially stressful to remain in her mother's opulent mansion, but one can only withstand so much passive aggression before it manifests itself in the form of nausea and a fierce beckoning to silent rebellion. On this basis, she left, striking out to make her mark on a world that barely felt her presence.

Her book placed gracefully into her purple knit handbag, she began sauntering towards the park exit. Her eyes stayed trained on the ground before her, a habit she'd had from a young age despite her mother's diligent fussing and reprimands. Her hands, almost unbidden, idly smoothed out the prim button-up blouse she wore, a shade of white to rival her own pale skin. A touch of her earlier complacency traveled with her, and her expression was vaguely positive and receptive, only faint traces appearing of the low expectations she generally held for the human race. She couldn't deny that at times, they exceeded them, and she was reluctant to let those rare occasions slip past.

Upon reaching the sidewalk through the park gates, Rose glanced up at the nearby courthouse clock, perched in the center of the dim ivory. 6:58. Perhaps there was time to find something for dinner; the rumbling in her stomach was getting too voracious to ignore, and she feared little more could be found in her cupboards than cat food and six different types of tea. Continuing down the street, she gave brief consideration to the various eaters between the park and her apartment, although pickings appeared to be slim. A few places did look promising, but she was in no mood currently for a Chinese buffet or pizza with conveniently located frozen yogurt. She was on the verge of giving up, rummaging through her bag for her debit card, when abruptly she stopped in her tracks and her resigned sigh shifted into an audible gasp.

Behind some sort of counter on the other side of a plate glass window stood a woman in an apron the color of pine needles. Rose couldn't possibly describe her as less; she'd clearly long since abandoned the girlish qualities that still held Rose in their clutches. This woman, she possessed the kind of astounding beauty Rose had only encountered in her imagination, in her fondest daydreams. Lovely of face and voluptuous to the bone, she looked undeniably just like all Rose had ever craved. Even her lips had a vivid plumpness that very near induced whimpers and shivers of longing.

In that moment, she knew she was spellbound and had no choice. With no regard for what kind of shop she was entering or possible closing times, Rose pushed open the glass door. A bell rang overhead to signify her arrival, and the woman, previously wiping down the counter with an expression of severe tedium, looked to her and appeared to summon up some pretense towards welcome. Rose very nearly turned away and darted down the remaining blocks to the safety of the apartment. However, with a gulp she hoped wasn't loud enough to be heard, she inhaled sharply and stepped forward instead, a genuine smile gracing her features.

"Hello," she said, her voice breathless, catching on the hinges of newfound lust.


End file.
